


Dizzy

by kulina



Category: Waterparks (Band)
Genre: Can Be Read as Boyfriends or Just Friends, Fluff, Gen, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 05:18:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13780542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kulina/pseuds/kulina
Summary: Awsten comes down with something. Geoff does what he can.





	Dizzy

I.

Geoff wakes up to the sun. That’s… wow, that’s the first time that’s happened since the band started renting this house. Usually, Awsten comes barging in, demanding to know if Geoff is ready for breakfast and wondering aloud what Geoff dreamt about. If Geoff’s honest, the lack of disturbance is nice.

He listens to music in bed for a while, scrolls through Twitter, and enjoys the silence. He watches until the sunbeams stretch all the way across his walls, and then he heads downstairs to make some coffee. Ten minutes pass with him sipping at the steamy drink and thinking about nothing before his eyes slide to the clock. Immediately, his attention shifts to the fact that it’s way past time for Awsten to be wreaking havoc - but there’s no donut box carelessly open on the counter, no seemingly random crash from up the stairs, no echoing laughs from one end of a phone call home. It’s just… quiet. 

Geoff knows one thing, and it’s this: Awsten combined with quiet never means anything good. He dumps the rest of the coffee down the drain, rinses the sink, and wipes his hands on his sweats. He peeks in the garage, where the familiar, rusting car is patiently sitting. “Hey, Awsten?” he calls, heading toward the staircase. He pauses at the bottom.

No answer.

“Awsten?”

When again there’s no response, he heads back up and lets himself into Awsten’s room without knocking. Awsten is a light enough sleeper that normally, just the sound of the door opening would be enough to wake him. Not today. 

Geoff leans against the doorframe, a slight smile on his face as he takes in the sight of his best friend fast asleep under a pile of blankets. Awsten's lips are parted, and he’s - oh god, he’s actually snoring. Geoff chuckles to himself and slips back out. 

 

II.

Ten a.m. rolls around, and there’s still no sound from Awsten’s room. When it turns to eleven, Geoff decides to go check on him again. (He’d never admit it, but he’s actually grown a little bit bored without Awsten pestering him.) He knocks lightly on the door. “Hey, you up yet?”

There are several seconds of silence, so Geoff opens the door again. Awsten hasn’t moved an inch since Geoff peeked in two hours ago. He’s still snoring, and this time as Geoff looks him over, he notices a sweatshirt hood bunched against the back of Awsten’s neck. The covers are yanked all the way up under his chin, and he looks more than a little pasty. 

“Awsten,” Geoff says softly, stepping closer. “Hey, Awsten, wake up.”

Awsten’s eyes flutter open, and he glances dazedly toward Geoff but doesn’t move.

Immediately, Geoff is freaked out by how glassy his gaze looks. “Hey, whoa. Are you okay?”

Awsten closes his eyes without responding.

Yeah, that’s not right. Geoff quickly crosses the rest of the room and reaches down to feel Awsten’s forehead. “Ooh,” he winces. “Dude, you’ve got a fever.”

Awsten makes a noncommittal sound.

Geoff looks down at him, tapping two of his fingers against his own thigh as he thinks about what needs to happen. “Okay. Okay, um, do you want some medicine?”

“Shh,” Awsten groans.

Geoff nods. “Alright. Sorry.” It can’t hurt to just let him sleep, right? He’s traveling toward the hall when Awsten protests.

“No…”

He turns back. “‘No’ what?”

“Don’t leave.”

Geoff is quiet for several seconds, unsure of what exactly Awsten means. “Wh-?”

“Come back.”

“You want the medicine?” Geoff asks, thinking he’s changed his mind.

“No. You.” 

“Do you want me to get a-?”

“You,” Awsten repeats, and there’s enough force in his weak voice that Geoff can tell Awsten is already growing frustrated. 

“Let me grab something, and I’ll be right back, okay?”

Awsten is quiet, so this must be alright with him. 

Geoff heads to the bathroom, where he grabs a bottle of liquid Tylenol and fills a paper cup with tap water. 

“Geoff,” comes the sad call, and god, Awsten’s voice is fucking wrecked.

“I’m coming! Hang on.” 

He barely takes two steps into the room before Awsten complains, “You were gone so long.” 

Geoff smiles; it can’t have been more than forty-five seconds. “I’m sorry.” He sets the stuff on the nightstand and then takes a seat at the edge of Awsten’s bed. He’ll stay until his best friend falls asleep. 

But Awsten, as usual, has other plans. His hot fingers slide out from under the covers to tug on the hem of Geoff’s shirt. “What’re you doing?” he slurs.

“What are _you_ doing?” Geoff replies.

Awsten’s words are garbled when he explains his thinking. “You’re s’posed to lie down with me, you fucker.” 

Geoff raises his eyebrows. Awsten opens his sad, glassy eyes and feebly pulls on his shirt again. How could Geoff do anything but oblige?

 

III.

“I want my glasses,” Awsten rasps suddenly.

Geoff has somehow fallen half-asleep by the time the words come, and he wakes with a start. Awsten has molded himself to Geoff’s front and is speaking with his face mushed into his t-shirt. 

“For what?” Geoff asks. 

“I don’t know. I just want them.” 

A thought pops into Geoff’s head, and he decides to roll with it. “I’ll get them for you if you take some medicine.”

“Never mind,” Awsten grumbles. But within two minutes, his nose is so stuffed up that he’s in physical pain, so he grudgingly agrees. 

Geoff’s a bit relieved, honestly, as he watches Awsten drink the medicine. His glasses on the nightstand have already been forgotten about. Whatever ingredients are in the syrup knock him right back out, and Geoff exits the room as quietly as he can. 

 

IV.

The afternoon is quiet. Geoff starts to get a little lonely, so he turns on the TV to fill the silence. The dishwasher is running, and the air conditioner is on, but Geoff can still clearly hear a panicked burst of crying from upstairs. His blood runs cold.

He shouts Awsten’s name, and there’s a response, but it’s so shaky that all Geoff can understand is the name ‘Gracie.’

Geoff flies into the room, and Awsten is lying there, curled up on his other side, facing away from the door and trembling with sobs. Geoff rushes to the other side of the bed so he can see Awsten’s face and gets down to Awsten’s eye level. “What’s wrong?”

“G-Gracie’s dead,” Awsten bawls. 

Geoff’s eyes grow wide as saucers. “What? What happened?”

“There was a boat.” 

“A boat?” he echoes, wondering if she drowned.

Despite his body language and hoarse voice, the response is frantic. “Yeah, with pandas, and she was there, but then she wasn’t, and then she was dead!” 

Geoff glances at the nightstand, where Awsten’s phone is still lying untouched. “When?” he asks slowly.

“Just now!” 

Geoff stands up from the crying boy in the bed and moves to flip the cell phone over. A handful of messages from last night and this morning are displayed on the screen, including one from Gracie just two hours ago. It’s a question coded in some sibling speak that Geoff doesn’t understand, but the mention of pandas is more than enough to get Geoff to realize that Awsten’s having some serious fever dreams.

“Gracie’s fine,” Geoff corrects, and he sits down on the bed behind Awsten. He rests his hand on the crown of Awsten’s head so he can run his fingers through his hair. 

“No, she’s not!”

“Awsten,” Geoff soothes, “I promise she’s alive. She’s fine.” 

“But I saw it. I was there.”

“I know… I know. Shh…” He brushes his fingertips across Awsten’s forehead to subtly gauge his temperature again, and Awsten shivers. 

“She’s dead,” Awsten repeats hopelessly.

Geoff lies down beside him without being prompted, wrapping an arm over him to rub his back. “She’s not, Aws. She’s totally fine. I promise. She just texted you.”

Awsten uses the sleeve of his sweatshirt to wipe at his nose, and he sounds like a child when he says brokenly, “Are you sure?” 

“ _So_ sure,” Geoff nods. 

“So sure?” 

“Yeah. So sure.” 

Awsten pushes forward, nudging his head under Geoff’s chin and sighing against his neck. “Warm,” he hums. Geoff can practically feel the germs hitting his skin, but it’s not that important right now. Awsten needs this. 

“ _You_ are.”

“Mhmm,” Awsten hums. 

Geoff can’t help it - he presses a kiss into Awsten’s fading hair. 

 

V.

Things start to seem really off when Awsten begins throwing up. It’s not a lot of vomit, necessarily, but it _is_ everything Geoff’s managed to convince Awsten to drink. He can’t convince him to even look at food (other than a few moments he spent with a cherry-flavored popsicle that stained his lips bright red), but back up comes all the medicine and every sip of water he’s had all day. The fever is still raging, too; Geoff finally wrestles the thermometer into Awsten’s mouth again and finds that his temperature is, impossibly, climbing. 

“Awsten, get up,” Geoff orders, gently shaking his shoulder. “Come on. Get up.” 

“No,” Awsten moans.

“Yeah. Come on, we’ve gotta get your temperature down.”

“No, I don’t feel good.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, man, but we gotta do this. It’s this, or I’m taking you to a doctor, and I know you don’t want that.”

Awsten leans heavily into Geoff as they walk a few steps over to the bathroom. He’s weak as fuck, with legs like jelly and useless hands, and Geoff had known it was bad, but he hadn’t realized that it was _this_ bad. Awsten can hardly walk. 

“I can’t breathe,” he groans for the hundredth time.

“I know,” Geoff murmurs back sympathetically. “This will help. I promise.” 

The water in the shower is already running, warm, but not hot. Geoff knows it would be a mistake to leave Awsten alone to undress and run through the motions of a shower, so he doesn’t even ask if Awsten wants to try. Instead, he sits Awsten down on the edge of the tub with his pajama pants rolled up and and puts his feet in the water. Half of the stream from the faucet lands on his bare knees and cascades down his calves, and Awsten leans back into Geoff, who supports him enough to keep him upright. 

With Geoff’s left hand, he wets a washcloth and runs the damp fabric over Awsten’s forehead. After a few minutes, Awsten is breathing easier, and he’s able to relax, sagging into Geoff and drifting more than halfway to sleep. Geoff’s glad, because this gives him the opportunity to slowly turn the water down, down, down until it’s a little chilly. Awsten’s out of it, though, so his legs are cooling off, and Geoff hopes that the rest of him is, too. 

 

VI.

That makes a big difference, not just in Awsten’s temperature, but also in his nose and his chest. The steam cleared his nasal passages and made him easy to put back into bed. Geoff changes him into a clean t-shirt and helps him back between the sheets, and he takes a spot at the desk. He plays on his phone until he can hear Awsten struggling to breathe again, which is when he wakes him up and takes him back to the bathroom for some more steam and then another cool-down.

 

VII.

“Geoff,” Awsten moans with a weak sob. “Geoff, I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

“Aws?” Geoff asks blearily into a pillow. The clock on Awsten’s nightstand reads 1:37 AM. Shit, he must have passed out while he was trying to get Awsten to fall asleep. He blinks awake and is halfway to sitting up when he notices the unmistakable stench of vomit. “Did you throw up again?”

“Y-yeah…”

“Okay, hang on,” Geoff murmurs. “Hang on.” He maneuvers around where he guesses the puke is and goes around the bed.

“I’m sorry…”  


He sounds so broken. Geoff would love to hug him, but he’s got to take care of this first. “Shh, don’t apologize. It’s fine.” 

“I didn’t mean to…”

“I know, Aws. It’s okay, man.” Geoff flips on the lamp, and he can see just a little bit of vomit on Awsten’s shirt and a lot more on the top blanket. 

“I don’t feel good,” Awsten whimpers.

“Shh…” Geoff soothes, running a gentle hand over Awsten’s sweaty hair. It’s plastered to his forehead. This can’t be good. “We’re gonna clean up, alright?”

“O-okay,” Awsten nods.

“Okay,” Geoff echoes. “Here.” He carefully picks up the edges of the top blanket, careful not to touch anything gross, and lifts it off the bed. He sets it on the floor out of the way and then goes back for Awsten. 

The singer is still burning up. He looks as confused as ever, and now he’s nauseous and upset, too. 

“Are you gonna get sick again?” Geoff asks.

Awsten pauses for a moment. “I don’t think so.” 

“Okay.” 

Ever so carefully, Geoff helps Awsten slip his arms inside the dirty t-shirt.

“Warm,” Awsten murmurs. 

“Are you cold?” Geoff asks, not looking away from what he’s doing with the shirt. He loves Awsten, but he doesn’t want puke on him regardless. 

“Uh-huh,” Awsten nods.

“Stay still,” Geoff reminds. “Almost done.”

Geoff reaches into the now-empty sleeves and wiggles the collar up around Awsten’s chin and over his head. Whew. Geoff balls up the shirt and sets it beside the blanket. When he turns back, Awsten is curled in on himself, trembling and coughing a little and looking smaller than Geoff has ever seen him. 

“Come here,” Geoff murmurs, and Awsten goes easily into Geoff’s arms. He exhales heavily around all the gunk in his nose and his chest, and his bare skin is so hot against Geoff’s fingers that Geoff’s instinct is to pull his hands away. “Oh my god,” he mutters instead, holding his best friend closer as if he could hug the sickness out of him. 

“’m sorry,” Awsten mumbles again.

“Shh. Don’t talk.”

“Kay.” 

Geoff runs his hands up and down Awsten’s back, but he’s starting to shiver again, so Geoff does the first thing he thinks of, which is to strip off his own sweatshirt and slip it around Awsten’s shoulders. Awsten blindly tries to stick his arms through the sleeves, and Geoff lets go for a moment to help him. 

“I-” Awsten starts, but Geoff cuts him off.

“Don’t talk, Aws. It’s okay.” 

“No, it’s important.”

“What?”

Awsten’s fingers latch onto the sides of Geoff’s tank top. “I love you,” he sighs. 

Geoff smiles softly. “Yeah, you asshole, I love you, too.” 

 

VIII.

5 AM finds Awsten awake and complaining. Geoff tries to be patient, but he’s fucking tired from Awsten waking him up coughing, begging for Kleenex, needing to sit in the steamy bathroom to breathe, refusing to take more medicine and then crying for it ten minutes later…

“I don’t feel good, Geoff.”

“Me, either,” Geoff responds frankly. 

Awsten doesn’t seem to hear him. Dazedly, he continues, “I really, really, really don’t feel good. Really, really, really, really, really.”

“What do you want me to do?” Geoff asks exasperatedly. 

Awsten’s response comes in a whisper. “Make it stop.”

 

IX.

At 8:30 AM, Geoff is back at the desk, this time with his laptop. He’s got WebMD open and is researching when to take someone to the hospital for the flu. He purses his lips and glances back at Awsten, who matches all the “severe” symptoms and is both shivering and short of breath. 

He smells a little. That’s the first thing Geoff notices when he goes to wake Awsten up. Yeah, his hair has been oily, and that’s one thing, but the sweat from the fever is growing a stench, and if Geoff can smell it (and he’s used to it,) the doctors will really be able to. But maybe they’ll realize how bad this is, and Geoff can get some fucking help. 

“Awsten, hey. Wake up. I need you to wake up.” 

“Wha…”

Awsten coughs violently, and Geoff leans back out of the way of the rush of air. “Shh, come on. We’re gonna make it stop. That’s what you want, right? You want all this to stop?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Okay. I know somebody that can make you feel better. We’re gonna go see them, okay?”

“No, I wanna stay here,” he moans, weakly pushing at Geoff’s hands. “I wanna sleep…”

Geoff ignores him, pulling him up and half-carrying him off the bed. 

“No,” Awsten begs.

“Awsten, please. They’ll make you better.” 

“Jus’ want you…”

“I’m not gonna leave you,” Geoff promises. 

“You sure?”

They’re at the staircase, and Geoff stares down it for a few seconds before determinately setting his jaw. “So sure.” 

 

X. 

Two hours later, Awsten’s clad in a hospital gown, and Geoff has a mask over his face just in case he’s caught the virus. Geoff practically took a bath in hand sanitizer, and now he’s holed up in the waiting room, trying to keep his drooping eyes open.

_Waiting for a friend in the ER,_ he tweets. _Prayers please._

Responses immediately flood in, and Geoff glances at a few of them before tossing his phone onto the chair next to him. All he wants is to see Awsten, to know he’s still breathing. 

He feels more hopeless than ever.

 

XI.

The fluorescent light is blinding when Geoff is finally allowed in. There are tubes all over, disappearing into Awsten’s mouth and nose and arms, and Geoff tries not to let the fear that’s twisting in his stomach take over. 

He swallows and instead reaches down to tug the blanket a little further up Awsten’s chest and check that Awsten’s name is spelled correctly on his bracelet.

It is.

Now that he’s in here and it doesn’t feel so much like Awsten is gone forever, he’s finally able to relax. He’s exhausted and starving; it’s almost noon, and he still hasn’t eaten or slept, but he doesn’t think he could do either if he tried. 

Once he’s satisfied that Awsten is covered enough, he momentarily presses their foreheads together before taking a seat in the chair at the side of the bed. He opens his phone again and tweets, _Things seem better._

Otto’s called three times, so Geoff texts, _Awsten. Really bad flu. Sleeping now. Supposed to be okay._

He puts the phone down and finally lets himself close his eyes.

 

XII.

Geoff wakes to a raspy voice. His eyes flutter open, and he’s met with a pair of bright, mismatched irises staring back at him.

“Geoff?” Awsten asks again. 

Geoff smiles. 


End file.
